Seems these last few weeks that feeling has been there as quickly as it goes. I left my journal at a friend of friends house and have yet to retrieve it. She said the night earlier she would run it up and punched my phone number into her phone as I exited the cab. Never trust a drunk person. I forgot it. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get her phone number from that good friend and she has not written back with it yet. Three weeks have passed.

I think I’ll trek down to this woman’s house tomorrow. Thoughts of her 11 year old daughter destroying the journal race through my head. Truth be told NEVER lend your good pens to someone who is NOT an artist. They will use them like a hammer. Once I have my journal back in hand I’ll Illustrate why. The pen’s tip in question has a leak now and no longer flows smoothly with green ink to paper. This mishap was from another night out with another good friend. A month has passed since.

I’ve not been feeling it lately people. I’m lost in this small city. Old friends are wonderful yet they don’t fill that creative void yet I just continue going out with them to the same old hang outs that play god awful music. I’ve never in all my life heard so many trainwrecks in 15 minutes times 1000. The clubs here change owners every year or so. A new Gangster moves in. A new name is given to the club thus increasing attendance in the short term yet the music remains pop, top 40 and country and these people call themselves DJ’s. Blasted! Two week’s have passed since.

You know what makes me happy… drawing, creating, conversing about life and my family. Not bars, cars, American Idol and certainly not hockey. Good food, a good documentary and a glass of wine is divine. Yes, folks I do drink alcohol with supper or socially. And yes, folks I am sober of chemicals for almost a thousand days.

A male friend of mine and I broke up recently. I miss him. I miss people with whom I used to create with on a weekly basis in person. I miss Vancouver or is the memory of that, just intense.

Pulling out my journal here to draw or write amongst friends is futile. There are those few who respect silence while we each do our own thing whilst enjoying each other’s presence. It’s not all bad. I’ve been absorbing it all and I’m full and fighting the urge to explode. Mmmm miniatures is not cutting it at the moment. Maybe some larger acrylic painting…

I do believe this city has something for me. I believe I have something to give this city. I’m here. The city is here. Neither of us are going anywhere anytime soon.

I will not run nor hide nor continue to do the things I am doing as some of them don’t feel good. And if it’s not feeling good then don’t do it.

Like this:

To do the Censored Art draw I wrote out the number’s 1 through 16 which represented the 16 commenters and drew one out of a glass. I am a day late announcing the winner as I’ve been away from a computer most of the weekend only now being able to sit down and write this out.

Congratulations Betty!!! Your two ACEO’s will be mailed to Alabama Monday morning.

Thanks to everyone who entered. Cheers!

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Share this:

Like this:

I drew this as a test to see if a miniature drawing could hold up being printed at a 5″ by 7″ or even larger as an 8″ by 10″. This original measures 2.5″ by 3.5″. And guess what it held up beautifully for printing after scanning it at the obscene resolution of 900dpi.

I drew Hope with colored Pilot Pens on dusty rose cotton Canson paper. The white is also an opaque Pilot Pen. I have hope.

Like this:

I just happened to click to the front page of Etsy and there she was sitting pretty nestled in between two other trees. I’ve been giggling my bum off for the last little bit. Ah, this just made my day. Winter can be seen here on my blog to.

Like this:

I began drawing this before Christmas only recently finishing it. It is drawn with various Pilot pens. Even the white is an opaque ink Pilot pen. The paper I drew upon is about 1/16″ or 2mm thick and slightly flecked and textured with color. It measures 5″ by 7″ or 152mm by 203mm

Memories accumulate over time interlacing overlapping each other causing fog to form at the base of one’s understanding. We see people in passing who at one time understood us; perhaps even loved us and whom we used to love to. They dwell between the nether regions of our souls; a place dark perhaps distraught from years of neglect and solitude.

When you see what it really is
that is what you’ll “get”
Got it?

I don’t know why I saw her tonight. I don’t know why she was there dancing. I couldn’t understand the memories that surged yet understood why and how they became.

We ingested copious amounts of drugs together. We partied days at a time. Not hours. Nor evenings. Days. 72 hours? 3 days turned into weeks for me. Months. Years. Passed.

It broke tonight. The craving for intoxication. Annihilation. Emptiness. I saw her and all that was is. All that will be was forgotten.

Nine hundred and sixty seven days later I remain sober of GHB.

Fuck, the last two weeks became stupendously hard for me and I don’t know why. It was all I could do but work, draw, write, sleep, not sleep, be, not be, freak silently while the cravings raced over me, through me and around me. How can this be? How!!! Talking to someone here in this freaking city is irrelevant. People here in this small town have no clue. NONE.

So, I will talk to you. You who will not judge, nor react. You who will accept. You the unknown, the present tense of life.

It melted away tonight. As quickly as it hit, two weeks later it melted, evaporated. It’s been a long long time since I’ve craved like this. Maybe the longest it has ever lasted since I quit. The whole of the month of April, 2008 has nearly strangled me with… the words just don’t exist to continue writing right now.